A Dirty Business
by Lord Casskey
Summary: Full Metal Alchemist/Inuyasha crossover, Mobsters, organized crime. Two families, the Elrics and the InuYoukai, clash wits and steel in a nameless city. Rated R for dark reinterpretations of characters, Violence, Profanity and Drug material, more to come.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Inuyasha.

"HONEY, I'M HOME!"

The first thing Detective Roy Mustang took off as he walked through the door was his badge, not his coat. then came his gun, which went in the locked dresser upstairs, but Riza came first.

Roy was sick of his job. He had meant to use the force as a stepping-stone to a political position, not really realizing whose asses he would need to kiss to get there, but he tried to do his job. Roy was a man who believed in improving people's lives, and finding murderers and mobsters was the best he could do with the life that he was leading. Of course, those criminals usually happened to have money, something his superiors wanted. Therefore, he couldn't do anywhere near as good a job protecting the people as he wanted to.

However, the force had given him one thing: (former) detective Riza Hawkeye (now Mustang) owner and proprietor of Hawkeye shooting supplies and Mustang's only love. With the possible exception of a good cigar being a close second, of course.

A good cigar, like the one he smelled as he hung up his coat.

Riza didn't smoke.

Roy's hand went for the Glock on his hip, fumbling with the safety just as he heard someone all too familiar.

"Come inside, Roy." it was a light, slightly feminine rasp, like a little boy's voice mixed with fingernails across a chalkboard. "And leave the gun in there, on the floor. I'm a lot quicker than you and a much better shot than you, especially in the dark. Come in."

Roy set his pistol down and walked into the kitchen, the only visible light the end of a lit cigar. His cigar. There were shards of glass on the floor, the light bulb turned to powder in its socket.

Alphonse Elric, dressed casually, reclined with his feet on the table, only his hairline and teeth and eyes visible from the glow, although the streetlight outside glinted off of the blue steel of a sawn-off shotgun on his lap.

"Where's Riza?" Roy tried to make himself seem calm, although the result was more of a spitting sound as he tried to keep his teeth from clenching around his tongue.

"At her store. She sends her love." Al sighed a bit. "You could have gone places, Roy."

And that was when Roy knew he should have done something different with his life if he didn't want to answer to criminals when they called.

Thoughts are electric shocks that flitter across the lump of tissue and blood kept imprisoned in our skulls. One would think that if we have mastered electricity to the point that we have now, we would be able to save them. To preserve them. To prove that we can, if nothing else.

If we could, the lumps of bloody tissue that were scraped off of the kitchen floor not twenty-four hours later would be more than just waste matter, they would be vital information, the last few thoughts rocketing across his dying brain. Did he think of his wife? Did he think of his childhood? Did he think of what he did, and didn't do?

But we can't, and so it was scraped off of the floor and bagged in plastic, its last electric hopes and dreams and memories forever unseen.

But, that's the way it goes: sometimes you're the guy with a gun, and sometimes you're the mush on the floor.

Such is life.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I would just like to mention a few things:

You're probably angry at me. I did just kill off one of the series' most beloved characters and turned another into a psychopath. This sort of thing is going to keep happening, and if you're offended by reinterpretations of characters, then you're going to hate the rest of this story so you should probably go read something else.

Sorry about that.

If you're still here, I would like you to know that this is in a slightly different canon than Tell Me About The First Man You Ever Killed. The characters are the same, the cards just fall in a slightly different way.

Also, I'd like to deeply thank the people who read my previous work (There aren't a lot of fics in this category, so...Thanks for checking!) because I'm almost certain that they will be the only ones reading this(though if anyone else chooses to jump in, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do!) Stay with me, guys!


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the rights to any of the characters from Full Metal Alchemist or Inuyasha.

/things said like this/ should be considered Japanese.

"/I hope you realize that I'm going to fucking kill you one of these days, brother./"

Sesshomaru checked his watch. "/It's already four in the morning. I'd chide you for sleeping late, but we need to go. Get some pants on./"

"/Fuck you. No. Why? Where the hell are we going?/" Inuyasha screamed at him. "/What's going on? Why are…/" Sesshomaru advanced on his Brother. "/What are you doing? GET OFF OF ME!/"

Sesshomaru grabbed his woefully underdressed brother by his long, thick white hair and dragged him kicking and screaming towards the window. "/WHAT!/" Inuyasha screamed in his brother's ear. "/FUCK YOU! NO!/"

Sesshomaru, internally trying to remind himself of why he shouldn't just hold Inuyasha's head in the toilet until he stopped squirming, hefted him over his head and tossed him out of the window, forgetting to check if it was open first.

CRASH!

The two men glared at each other from across the table. Their father had called them to an emergency meeting, and presumably was turning up late to test them.

"/I hate you./" Inuyasha could glare like no one else even when he wasn't shirtless, covered in blood and pulling shards of glass out of his arms and face.

"/it was only the third floor. Stop whining./" Sesshomaru slipped a skinny stilletto out of his sleeve to clean out his brother's caked blood from under his perfectly manicured and impossibly sharp nails.

"/Hello, boys./" their father had an amazing ability to appear out of absolutely nowhere, which was especially surprising for someone who weighed more than three hundred pounds. There was a time when none of that was fat, but the years had been a little too kind. He only got faster, though, for some reason.

"/The fuck you want? Why am I here?/" Inuyasha interrupted.

"/Kid, shut the fuck up. I called you here because someone screwed up pretty badly on our recent gun shipment. Things got a little wild and the guy who was on loan from the Northern Wolves got killed. Those guys have been looking for an excuse to go after our territory, and we just gave it to them./"

"/So we fight them! Case closed!/" Inuyasha picked a piece of glass out of his cheek.

"/Shut the fuck up, kid. Sesshomaru, there's a boat down by the docks half a kilometer down the road. There will be someone there to take the two of you to America, where you will meet with a friend of mine. You're going to stay there until things back here blow over, which might be a very long time./"

"/Yes, Father./" Sesshomaru flipped open his phone. "/Should I inform my subordinates?/"

"/No. I'll be heading north with the whole crew. There are some things that need to be blown up, and I've been wanting to expand to America anyway./"

"/HEY!/" Inuyasha interjected, violently, punching the table for emphasis. "/Don't I get a say in this!/"

"/No./" his father answered. The big man picked himself up and turned to his older son. "/Sesshomaru, please explain to your little brother on the way to America that he is not to do absolutely anything there without your supervision besides watch TV and diddle himself. He is not to go outside, he is not to meet women, he is going to keep a low fucking profile, and if he doesn't, then throw him down a manhole. I don't need to explain that that goes for you as well. Clear?/" Sesshomaru nodded. "/Good. We're going to switch cars. Hopefully, I'll see you when you get back to Japan./"

The big man practically glided through the doors, not leaving even a smudge or a hair to prove that he had been there.

"/Let's go./" Sesshomaru grabbed his younger brother a bit more forcefully than he had to, and dragged him outside.

"/Don't we need guns or something?/" Inuyasha asked as they entered their father's Ferrari.

Sesshomaru already had a stainless Beretta in his hand, a semiautomatic. Inuyasha's eyes bugged out a little; the anger had risen up his spine and into his brain and not finding much there, tried to fight its way out of his face. "/Why the fuck do you have a gun? Where'd you get it? Gimme a gun!/"

Sesshomaru, unable to take his brother's blathering anymore, pulled the car over to the side of the road, grabbed Inuyasha by the throat, led him around the back and bundled him into the trunk.

Inuyasha could only speak in short gutteral sounds at this point, rabbit punching the inside of the trunk. He couldn't see a damn thing, he was bleeding from all over, he was dressed in only boxers and a wife-beater and he couldn't stand his brother's condescension. It had been a hard half-hour or so, and he screamed until his vocal cords rebelled.

Then, light! Came through a hole. He felt something overwhelming his nerves, his whole body, coming from his leg. He smelled fresh blood and realized what it was from just as three more holes opened up just above his head.

"/FUCKING DRIVE FASTER!/" he screamed to his brother, hammering on the metal with his good arm.

There was a bump, and then a feeling of weightlessness. He put his eye up to the bullet holes and saw Japan disappear behind them just as the giant hunk of metal he rode in slammed down onto a flat surface.

The trunk opened suddenly, and a soft but surprisingly strong hand pulled him up and onto what he now realized was a boat, a very small and very, very fast boat heading very, very fast in one direction.

She wore a somber blue outfit, no frills, and was quite beautiful and quite scary. "My name is Kikyo." she said in perfect English. "I work for Miroku. He sent me to get you. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She extended a hand in greeting.

Inuyasha wobbled a bit, looked down at his bleeding leg and opened his mouth to say something. Instead, he threw up on her and blacked out.

She caught him skillfully and handed him to a large asian man who brought him below deck.

Sesshomaru exited the car as gracefully as he made his Beretta disappear. "I am Sesshomaru. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, and would like to thank you for helping us and our father." he said in slightly affected but elegant English.

"You know, Miroku said that you were brothers. He said one was an idiot and one had a stick so far up his ass that he tasted bark every time he sneezed." she shrugged off her vomit-encrusted jacket and threw it over the side. "I think we'll work well together. Welcome to America."

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: not really much to say here. Thanks for reading!_

_Here's this story's theme song, at the moment: _.com/watch?v=nP1LLjtTl_w


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor Inuyasha, nor any of the brand names I may mention herein unless otherwise specified.

Ting-_chink._

Alphonse's windproof lighter created a tapered flame, fed by the hissing butane gas inside the stainless housing. The lighter had a cigar cutter hidden inside its lower section, its only decoration an "A" for Alphonse scratched onto the blade. The flame was the only light in the world to Rat, crouched in the backseat, and it disturbed him more than he could say. Rat had grown up in the city, where neon and cracked light bulbs were a more common source of illumination than the sun itself, and the soft blue outside of the car disturbed him.

Alphonse let the smoke go from his lungs reluctantly, slowly, and more smoke seemed to come from him than the short thin cigar.

"Have you ever set someone on fire, kid?" his voice was like honey and vinegar. He didn't even turn around. "I've killed a lot of people, in a lot of ways, and I think that's my favorite. Till I found out they actually die from smoke inhalation. I always thought that was a little disappointing. I've been inhaling nothing but smoke all my life, and I'm fine. Have you ever been out of the city, kid?"

Rat seemed to find his tongue a different taste and size than it used to be. "No. I mean, uh, no sir-"

"Shut the fuck up." Alphonse took another puff. "Then you have never in your life been inhaling something other than smoke. Think about it. And you're fine. Hell, you're strong and fit. I guess strong enough, you think you can steal from my store?" Alphonse turned around in his seat, and looked Rat in the face. His eyes were like melting metal.

Rat's tongue floundered like a suffocating fish, then gave up. He shuddered and contracted into a ball.

"I gotta say, though, you've got balls, kid. No brains, no muscle, but balls." Alphonse tapped the spare ash off of his cigar onto the dashboard. "I can't say the same for your friend."

Alphonse Elric switched on the light, and Rat finally saw, in perfect detail, the lump of darkness next to him that he had been trying to avoid.

Kevin used to have a light behind his eyes. Kevin's lap was stained with something dark and wet.

"Nope, kid, you were the only one with balls. I still had to have a talk with you, though. You understand."

Rat's right arm wouldn't move. It felt numb, but a fragile kind of numb, like if he didn't avoid it then he would feel something he was trying to avoid. "Y-yes sir."

"Good. Let's have a talk outside." Alphonse grabbed Rat's arm, and everything was stars until he hit something firm and smooth and cold. He recognized it as stone, surprised, after a few seconds of confusion. Then, there was a _gluck gluck gluck _sound like thick fluid on a smooth surface, and that familiar, awful Ting-_chink_ sound, and orange and red filled his eyes with a **Fwoosh.**

"YA LIKE THAT, KID? HUH!" Alphonse grabbed Rat by the hair and held him up to see the little blue car, burning bright. Kevin crackled inside. "YOU WANNA END UP LIKE HIM!"

Alphonse propped the kid up with surprising gentleness to survey what he realized, after several long decades of building dread, must be a cliff. From the highest possible vantage point.

Alphonse was practically screaming over the sound of the crackling metal and bone behind them. "THAT'S ABOUT TO GO OVER THE EDGE! DO YOU WANT TO GO WITH IT! **DO YOU!"**

Rat frantically tried to shake his head, and vomited over the edge. He watched the bile disappear over the rocks and wondered if that was going to happen to him-just vanishing into think air before he hit.

Alphonse suddenly straightened up, and his face turned into something approximating concern. He leaned in to Rat's face. Alphonse spoke, almost tenderly. "You're Envy's kid brother, right? Is that who you are?"

Rat nodded, never before so relieved to hear that name he hated.

"Damn." Alphonse smacked his forehead. "What do I do, what do I…." he looked up at Rat, a light behind his eyes. "Lemme guess, kid-you hate your brother, right? I mean, I would. I've met Envy. I may work with him, but…" he shook his head. "I'll bet anything your little transgression earlier didn't have anything to do with him, did it? He wouldn't be pleased. I mean, he wouldn't be all smiles and giggles and sunshine about what I did, either, but which is more important to him-his business, or his brother?" both of them knew the answer.

"Here's a proposition, something that'll help both of us. How about you come work for me?" Alphonse forced his worn rubber cheeks into a wide, hollow grin. "Your brother's been nothing but an asshole, anyway. I think you'd like to be his replacement, someday." the grin disappeared, and Alphonse's face turned into nothing. "Or, you can go over the side with dickless here. What's it gonna be?"

Rat looked Alphonse in the eyes. "Rat." he said.

"What was that, kid?" Al leaned in close.

"My name's Rat. You can't call me kid if I'm gonna be working for you."

Al smiled again, this time more genuine, although that didn't make it friendlier. "That's a shitty name. hey, your brother's Envy-how about Wrath?"

"Sure." _anything not to die._

"Good." Alphonse took Wrath by the shoulders and walked away with him, down the long road back to the city. "I think this is the beginning of a wonderful thing."

Al looked through his tin of Quroum Cigars and handed one to the newly christened Wrath. "Let's go get you a gun."

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: phew! It's good to get back to fan fiction. There's something especially cathartic about mobsters. Maybe that's why American film loves them so much. Anyway, it's good to have you back, guys! Lemme ask you a question: I've got this other idea, see, about FMA. A dark Western about Revenge and Lawlessness, in the days after all the cows were rounded up and just as the trains came in. Ed Elric returns home to Californ-eye-ay after eight years of making a bad name for himself south of the border, only to discover his old enemies, the Homonculi, have killed his brother, mistaking Al for Ed. Ed sets out to make peace with himself and both of his pasts, and to deal out the kind of justice that a Man gives. The Law of the Desert._

_Tell me whether I should do that story, or this one! I'd love to hear any of your opinions. I'm glad you're even reading at all!_

_See you next time, for a longer chapter as the Inuyokai clan settles in to the western world and Ed Elric meets someone through something other than business._

_It's good to be back, folks._


End file.
